Friendsgiving
by betweenstories
Summary: Families can be complicated, and sometimes holidays are better spent with friends. Same high school alt-verse as "A Very Orange Halloween." Vauseman, Lorna/Nicky, Taystee, Poussey.
1. Chapter 1

Me on Saturday afternoon: "Thanksgiving fic? Ain't nobody got time for that!" Me at midnight on Sunday: "I got a little time..."

**Set in the same high school alt-verse as "A Very Orange Halloween" (though you probably don't need to read that fic to enjoy this one). Some humor but more sentimentality, 'cause I'm a sucker for a make-your-own-family story, and Thanksgiving feels like an appropriate time to write one. **

(When I wrote my Halloween story I got two requests: more holiday fic, and a one-shot of Piper and Alex's first date. I decided to tackle both at once, throw in my Taystee/Poussey romantic brotp, and add a little shout-out to Nicky/Lorna. I hope this delivers on what you were asking for! Probably 3-ish chapters. Like last time, it might not be finished by Thanksgiving, 'cause I always start writing too late.)

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><p>The wind was cold, and Poussey shoved her hands deep into her pockets as she trudged along the sidewalk toward the bus stop. It was four-thirty in the afternoon, the sun was setting, and November was dying - though it seemed determined to give New England something to remember it by before disappearing for good. All week the meteorologists had been forecasting snow, and tonight the sky was poised to deliver; its grey shroud stretched as far as the eye could see, casting a dreary pall over the town. It was the eve of Thanksgiving, and so far <em>dreary<em> was an appropriate descriptor.

Poussey's father wasn't coming home.

The word had come down at the last minute that his leave had been canceled. Too much tension in the area where he was stationed, too great a need for boots on the ground - that was the reason they'd given; "they" being whoever was in charge of the American security forces in Baghdad, where Poussey's father was currently stationed. She hadn't seen him in five months. She wouldn't see him for at least three more.

She'd always been proud of having a career military man as a father. Growing up, it had been impressed upon her that her dad was a hero, that his job was to save lives and help bring freedom to those who were lacking it. But as she'd grown older, and the politics of her father's military assignments became less obscure to her, Poussey's attitude began to change. She was still proud of him, of course; but she felt increasingly resentful of the military itself, for sending her father into wars that couldn't be won, and for keeping him away from his family. For keeping him away from _her_. Meanwhile, her mom continued to work nights at the hospital, routinely drawing shifts in the E.R. that put her schedule at odds with her daughter's.

Thanksgiving was supposed to be a time to spend with family, but Poussey's parents wouldn't make it home for dinner. They were too busy trying to fix a broken world.

In lieu of a reunion with her dad, Poussey was now on her way to the Nichols' palatial house to attend their annual Thanksgiving Eve dinner party. Every year, Mrs. Nichols and her husband invited dozens of business associates over on the pretense of celebrating the holidays. They all stood around drinking expensive wine and gloating over the latest company mergers and acquisitions, and whatever else members of Connecticut's high society had to discuss with each other. In order to appease their daughter, Nicky, her parents let her invite whichever friends she wanted. Poussey had received an official invitation in the mail, printed in gold lettering on cream-colored cardstock, with little red cornucopias stamped in the corners. It was the most pretentious, business-like party invitation Poussey had ever received, and she couldn't wait to give Nicky shit for it later.

As she rounded the corner and the bus stop came into view, she spotted a familiar figure leaning against the side of the shelter. The girl had her hood up and her head lowered, but Poussey's eyes lit up with recognition.

"Yo, Taystee!" She waved and picked up her pace, jogging the last dozen yards to the shelter. The other girl glanced up and favored her friend with a weary smile.

"Hey, P," she greeted, though her tone lacked its usual cheerfulness.

"Where you going?"

Taystee shrugged, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Anywhere but here," she said, nodding toward the end of the block. She lived in the house on the corner with six other foster kids. She'd been there fourteen months, which was the longest she'd lasted in a home since she was a kid. In just a few more months she'd be eighteen, old enough to be her own legal guardian and finally slip out of the system.

"He wiggin' out again?" Poussey asked, frowning. She knew Taystee's foster father had a temper.

Taystee nodded. "Abby left the window open. I keep telling her not to smoke in the bedroom, he catches her every fucking time. He started screaming about heating bills and shit, swearing at us. I wanted to get out of there before it got bad, so I just... left."

"Shit." Poussey shifted on the balls of her feet, moving to stay warm. "Where you gonna go now?"

Taystee shrugged. "Maybe Vee's place."

Poussey's reaction was immediate. "Nah," she said quickly, giving her friend a hard look. "I told you, T, that woman is not a good person."

"You don't know her," Taystee said, defensively. "She takes care of people. She told me I could live with her if things got bad."

Poussey made a skeptical noise. "Yeah. Sure, you can live with her, _if_ you start peddling her shit on the street corner. You wanna get involved in that?"

"Oh please, everybody knows _you_ already dealing after school."

"That's weed, not real shit!" Poussey snapped back. If it were anyone else, she would have argued the point; but she didn't want to fight with her best friend, especially not on the night before Thanksgiving. She closed her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed with cold. Suddenly, her eyes lit up as an idea dawned on her. "Hey, why don't you come with me to Nicky's place?"

"What?"

"For their Thanksgiving party!"

Taystee looked at her skeptically, holding her hood down in defense against a gust of wind. "I'm not really dressed for it."

"Psh, that don't matter. We'll go in the back door, no one will even notice."

"I think they'll notice a couple of 'hood rats hanging around the buffet table, P. Hate to tell you this, but in room full of CEOs, you and I are gonna stand out." She was smiling now, though, and Poussey found the sight encouraging.

"Nah come on, we can fit in!" She protested. Her face turned serious. "Amanda, did you hear that piece on NPR about hedge funds?" She asked, mockingly, doing her best white housewife impersonation.

Taystee played along. "Oh Mackzenzie, Todd and I don't listen to the radio anymore! Too much of that 'ghetto' music. I'm afraid my son will start wearing his hat backwards!"

"Goodness!" Poussey pressed her hand over her heart, looking scandalized, and then they both burst into laughter. "Come on, Tayst! We'll steal a bottle of champagne, hang out by the indoor pool like we're Beyoncé on a yacht or some shit!"

"There is no universe in which you look like Beyoncé," Taystee replied, starting to laugh.

"What, you saying I look like Jay-Z?"

They were still laughing as the bus pulled up. It felt good. Laughter helped erase the hurt of knowing her father wasn't come home, helped ease the loneliness of the empty house that waited for her tonight while her mother was working late. No matter how cheerless the world felt beneath this grey November sky, at least she was bracing for the cold with her best friend beside her, keeping the fabric of their lives from tearing open, stitching up the hole in the night with the threads of their mirth.

They paid their bus fare and sat down next to each other in the dim cabin. Possessed by a sudden sentimentality, Poussey reached for her friend's hand, half-expecting Taystee to pull it away again. She didn't.

They rode across town like that; hands clasped, knees touching, sharing a companionable silence.

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><p>The Nichols residence was massive. The garage alone was built to hold five cars - a family of four could probably live in it, with room to spare. To some of the guests at the party, the sight was probably intimidating; but to Piper Chapman, it was entirely familiar. Her family had been having Thanksgiving with the Nichols almost as long as she could remember, and the massive residence with its maze of rooms and halls and two-story vaulted ceilings now hardly merited a glance. At the moment, she was far too concerned with locating her missing cell phone to give her surroundings any thought.<p>

"Mom, I can't find my phone," she whined, frantically searching the pockets of her peacoat.

Her mother gave her a cold look. "Piper, I'm not responsible for your possessions."

"Ugh, it probably fell out in the car. Can you unlock the doors, Daddy?"

Mr. Chapman shared a look of polite annoyance with his wife, before casting his daughter an indulgent smile. He was aways indulgent where Piper was concerned; less so with his wife. He fished around in his pocket, produced the keys, and pressed the remote unlock button.

Piper dashed back to the Mercedes and felt around the back seat for a minute. When she emerged, she was holding her phone aloft in triumph.

A moment later they were being ushered through the door and into the huge front hall of the house, where Mr. and Mrs. Nichols were greeting their guests one by one and taking their coats, like a perfect host and hostess. Piper swiveled around, searching for the head of bushy hair that would reveal her friend's location, but Nicky was nowhere to be seen.

By the time she'd surrendered her coat, Piper's parents were gone too. This is how it was every year. Attending this Thanksgiving party was a way for the Chapmans to keep up the pretense of celebrating a family holiday without actually having to spend any time together. As soon as they arrived, they scattered - each one settling into a crowd of acquaintances whose small talk was somehow less painful to listen to than the opinions and perspectives of their own family members. In the Chapman family, holidays were a performance; you memorized your lines and repeated them until the night was over, and then it was back to life as usual. That's just how it was; there was no use feeling bitter about it.

Piper had nearly given up on her search for Nicky when her gaze fell instead upon a tall, dark-haired figure who was standing across the hall, with her back to the blonde. She was removing a cropped leather jacket, and pushing a pair of black-framed glasses onto the top of her head.

Piper's breath caught in her throat. _Shit_.

She excused herself hurriedly, rushed down the hall, rounded the corner, and whipped out her phone. She didn't even bother searching her contacts - she had Polly's number memorized, and her best friend picked up on the second ring.

_"Hello?"_

"Polly! Polly, oh my god," Piper whispered, hysterically.

_"Piper? What's going on?_

"Polly, she's here!"

"Who's here? Where is 'here'?" Polly demanded, impatiently.

"Alex!" Piper hissed. "At the Nichols' Thanksgiving party!"

"Alex?" Polly repeated in confusion. "Who- oh! Oh my god, the girl from Halloween?"

"Yes!"

"Tall, dark, and sketchy? That Alex?"

"Yes! That Alex!"

_"_Okay,_ wow." _Polly paused. "Wait, what's the problem? You guys hung out, like, all night. You were totally into her!"

"I know," Piper moaned, clutching her free hand against her cheek in embarrassment. "But she gave me her number, and I never called her! I still have her sweatshirt. I stole her sweatshirt and I asked her out on a date and then I never called her, oh my god, I-"

"Piper!" Polly interrupted, sounding exasperated. "Do _not_ lose your chill. You're making a huge deal out of nothing."

"But I'm so embarrassed, Pol," Piper whispered tragically, leaning against the wall for support.

"Just avoid her," Polly suggested. "It's a huge house, right? You probably won't even run into-"

"Talking about me?"

_Shit_.

Piper turned around in slow motion to find Alex Vause leaning casually against the wall behind her, arms folded across her chest, staring at Piper with her eyebrows raised in amusement. Piper stood frozen in a wide-eyed stare, now completely speechless. She was dismayed, but not shocked, by the misfortune of being overheard by the very subject of her conversation. In fact it was so completely predictable, so totally _Piper_, that if would have been funny if it weren't so mortifying.

"Holy shit," Polly's voice said, through the phone. "Was that _her_?"

"I gotta go," Piper replied automatically, still staring at Alex, and quickly disconnected the call. "I, um... hi," she stammered, blushing beneath Alex's unwavering stare. "I was just talking... to a friend. Not about you," she lied.

"Really? Because it kind of seemed like you were."

"What?" Piper tried to look surprised. "Why would you think that?"

"I heard you say my name, like, five times."

Piper blushed. "Okay, I may have mentioned you."

"To Holly?"

"Polly."

"Right."

"Alex..." Piper trailed off, biting her lip softly, trying to decide how to broach the subject of her botched attempt to ask Alex out. She was finding it hard to focus, distracted as she was by the sudden realization that in the three weeks since they'd last seen each other, Alex had dyed the tips of her hair blue. The dye fading perfectly into the inky black of her natural color. 'Teenage rebel' had never been Piper's aesthetic of choice, but confronted with the hair-dyed, leather-coat-wearing, tall drink of water that was Alex Vause, she was now forced to admit that it held a certain appeal. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that Alex was a tall drink of whiskey; strong, enticing, and quite possibly dangerous.

_Focus, Piper._

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't call," she said, finally, studying Alex's face for a reaction.

Alex uncrossed her arms and pushed herself away from the wall. In a practiced gesture she pulled her glasses forward and then shoved them up to rest atop her head. "I'm a big girl, Piper," she replied, with an indifferent shrug. "If you're not interested, it's not a problem. But..." she looked up, staring steadily into Piper's hesitant gaze. "It seemed like you _were_ interested. I mean, you were _spooning_ me when I woke up that morning."

"I'm sorry," Piper mumbled, feeling suddenly breathless. "I'm interested. I really am. It's just that I'm...well..."

"... what?" Alex prompted, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

"I'm not really 'out' to a lot of people," she finished, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

"Ah. So you're afraid that if you go on a date with me, the dyke police will show up at your door and make mean finger-crosses at you."

Piper looked up sharply. "Very funny, Alex," she said, acidly. "Thanks for being so understanding. Your compassion is heart-warming."

"I'm sorry, Pipes, but you have to admit you're a little overdramatic."

_"_Piper Chapman_, _overdramatic_?"_ a voice interrupted. Neither one of them had noticed Nicky approach, but their wild-haired mutual friend was now standing between them, grinning broadly. "Please, Vause, next you'll be telling me the sky is blue and water is wet!" Nicky slung an arm around each of their shoulders; since she was the shortest of the three, this maneuver inclined both Alex and Piper to slouch uncomfortably. "Glad you both could make it!"

"You're an ass, Nicky," Piper complained, pulling away. She glared daggers at her friend as she rubbed the back of her now-sore neck.

"Tell me something I don't know," Nicky replied happily.

"You seem positively chipper," Alex observed, ducking backwards out of the hug. "Could it possibly have something to do with a certain tiny brunette, who, rumor has it, recently broke up with her prep school boyfriend?"

Nicky grinned. "Hey, I'm just being a good friend. Lorna needs a shoulder to cry on, and I'm willing to give her mine... along with any other body part she requires."

Nicky's step-dad called her name, and her smile turned immediately into a frown. "Fucking Paolo," she muttered. "He keeps making me take people's coats like I'm some fucking pack mule. I'll see you two later." She turned around and headed back down the hall, fighting her way through the now-steady stream of people that were making their way into the house.

Alex and Piper found themselves shunted to the side amidst a growing crowd of important-looking people carrying wine glasses and hors d'oeuvres plates. The two girls shuffled deeper into the room, finding a quiet corner to finish their conversation.

"Look, Piper, I'm not trying to pressure you into something you're not ready for. But when I kissed you on Halloween, I was under the impression that you liked it."

Piper bit her lip again, avoiding Alex's gaze. "I did," she said softly.

"Then go out with me."

"Alex..."

"Tonight."

"What?" Piper looked up in confusion. She thought Alex must be joking; she had that deadpan sense of humor that made it difficult to tell whether she was being serious or sarcastic. But when Piper met the brunette's gaze, Alex was staring back at her with a look of fierce determination. "Oh. You're serious," Piper replied, in an awed whisper.

"Of course I am."

"But Nicky invited us here. We can't just leave!"

"Yeah, well, Nicky's busy playing the hostess, and when Lorna gets here she'll probably be playing something else entirely. If you get my meaning."

Piper smiled, despite herself. It was true - at some point in the next hour, Lorna and Nicky were bound to disappear to attend a private party of their own. Their ongoing fling was the worst-kept secret in the history of high school romance. "I don't know, Alex..." Piper said, uncertainly. "What if someone comes looking for us?"

"There are so many people here, no one will even notice we're missing," Alex replied patiently.

Piper had to admit that this logic was pretty sound. She'd been to this Thanksgiving party every year for as long as she could remember - it was usually well into the night before anyone's parents thought to find out where the kids had gone and began checking their usual hang-out spots; the pool, the game room in the basement, Nicky's bedroom. She and Alex could be gone for two hours, easily, without incurring any suspicion.

"Okay," she agreed, nervously.

"Okay," Alex repeated, with a thin, smug smile. "Give me five minutes - I'll meet you outside by your car."

"I didn't drive here. My dad did."

"Then we'll take your dad's car," she said, shrugging unconcernedly.

"What?! No way! I'm not stealing my dad's Mercedes, Alex!"

"It's not stealing, it's borrowing," Alex corrected. "He'll never know."

"Yes he will!" Piper wailed, and then, realizing she'd said it rather loudly, clapped a hand over her mouth. "I can't. I'm not allowed to drive his car."

"Piper. Are you seventeen, or seven?" Alex rolled her eyes. "Break a rule. Just once. I _dare_ you."

It felt like a repeat of a conversation Piper had numerous times with Polly, who accused her often of being uptight and overly cautious. Piper was well aware of the fact that her peers disparaged her for always walking the straight-and-narrow. They called her Daddy's girl. They called her prim-and-proper Chapman. Those titles were all deserved, but she had never been bothered by them until now. Facing Alex's taunting expression, Piper was possessed by a deep and overwhelming desire to prove her reputation wrong.

"Okay," she breathed. "I'll get the keys."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sorry to those of you who were hoping for this story to be your avoid-the-relatives distraction, because I totally failed you. I did try to write a chapter yesterday, but spending the holiday with my partner was more important :) I am, however, very thankful for all of you! If you didn't have people to celebrate with, or had to spend the day with people who make you uncomfortable, (or even if you're not from the US and don't know what the heck thanksgiving even is), please know that I am glad you exist in this world, and I think you're awesome.

Also, this chapter took a turn I didn't expect and basically turned into a feelings dump of all my teenage Alex headcanons, sooo... sorry? I mean I'm kind of sorry, kind of not at all, haha. Please let me know what you think while I work on the next update!

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><p>The Mercedes still had that fresh-from-the-factory new car smell. To Alex, it was entirely unfamiliar - her mother had never been able to afford a new car, and she had grown up riding old clunkers in varying states of disrepair. In the winter, when it was too cold to roll the windows down, the cabins of those cars stank in the most revealing way. The unwashed smell of them provided hints about the lives of their past occupants, and Alex would often imagine elaborate biographies as she sat in the back seat. The old Subaru Forrester smelled of mulch and gasoline and wet dog, and she pictured its first owner as a butch, middle-aged landscaper, who was always accompanied by her two aging beagles because she couldn't bear to be parted from them. The Pontiac reeked of sweat and spilled booze and other, less pleasant odors that brought to mind frat boys with buzzed heads and greasy faces. Every unfortunate vehicle had its own story. When the shabby, impoverished, smallness of Alex's life threatened to overwhelm her, she would stave off depression with that comforting mantra: <em>it feels bad now, but think of all the stories you'll have.<em> At least half the time, that thought was a cheerful one. And right now, climbing into the passenger seat of Mr. Chapman's car, Alex thought the night had definite story potential.

"Where are we going?" Piper asked, turning to look at her nervously while maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the gear selector.

Alex smiled mysteriously. "You'll see," she said, simply, letting her backpack slide to the floor at her feet.

Piper put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. "Can you at least tell me which direction to turn?" she asked, sounding slightly annoyed, as they neared the end of the block.

"Left. You don't like surprises, do you?"

"I do," Piper insisted, stubbornly. "I'd just like to know where we're going, since I'm the one driving."

"Just head for Main Street, and I'll give you directions from there."

Alex reached for the radio dial.

"Alex!"

"What?"

"If you change the station, my dad will know I took the car!"

Alex rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. She'd never met anyone this uptight about the most inconsequential things; it ought to have been annoying, but instead she found it oddly adorable. "It's NPR," she said, dismissively. "I'll reset it when we get back."

She began searching through the stations, pausing on each one long enough to see if she recognized the snippet of song before hitting the tuner again. The song playing on the hard rock station had an all-too-familiar chord progression; it was the signature anthem on Death Maiden's debut album, by now apparently old enough to be considered a classic. Alex's fingers hovered indecisively over the radio dial before withdrawing. She slumped back in her seat.

"This is my dad's band," she said, in an offhand tone.

"Really?" Piper replied, surprised. "Your dad's in Death Maiden? That's insane!"

"Yeah," Alex agreed. _It is. Insane._

"Do you go to his shows a lot?"

"Not really," she answered, in a voice of determined calm. "He's not really... around. He and my mom were never married. He kind of doesn't know I exist, actually."

Discussing her dad in a casual, normal-person voice was one of Alex's greatest achievements, considering she'd never even met the man who was supposed to be her father. Some days she was tempted to contact Death Maiden's booking agent and ask to be put in contact with the the drummer, Lee Burley, the man who didn't know he had a kid. Maybe he did know - maybe he had some other daughter, some other family, a wife he kissed goodbye every time he hit the road. On nights when Diane worked the late shift, Alex would lay on the living room floor listening to Death Maiden records from her mom's vinyl collection, smoking stolen cigarettes and imagining what it would feel like to have more than one parent; to be loved by more than just one person. Sometimes, the thought made her furious - she hated Lee Burley so much her chest felt tight, like her heart was a coiled spring about to burst through her ribs. Other nights, the thought of him only made her feel empty, regretful. _Why doesn't he want me?_ - a question she'd carried around, unanswered, since she was a child.

She didn't talk about her absentee father with anyone. She wasn't sure why she was telling Piper now - why she was sitting in this showy car with this goody two-shoes rich girl, letting herself feel vulnerable in a way she hadn't for a long time. It was embarrassing.

But when Piper reached over to steady Alex's shaking fingers by tangling them up in her own, Alex decided that maybe being vulnerable wasn't such a bad thing.

They were in the center of town by now, and Alex cleared her throat. "Turn here," she instructed, indicating the next right.

They drove for several more minutes, with Alex navigating and Piper steering with one hand on the wheel, the other still holding Alex's.

"Where are we going?" Piper asked again, scanning the dark street for some sign of a worthwhile destination.

"You'll see," she repeated. When they came upon the final turn, she pointed to it and said, softly, "this is my street."

It wasn't the kind of neighborhood most kids were proud to live in. Alex and her mom had a cramped two-bedroom apartment in an eight-unit building, here at the edge of town, in the old industrial zone that the nicer housing developments had shunned for decades.

"That's my place," she said, as they drove by it. Piper started to hit the break, but Alex shook her head. "No, keep going to the end of the block. There's something else I want to show you."

They finally parked across the street from an empty lot, an abandoned plot of dirt and weeds and old, unrecycled refuse. Piper looked uncertain, even a little afraid, and Alex knew why - this was a part of town that the Chapmans would most certainly have considered off-limits to their daughter. In that context, the fact that the blonde was still here standing next to her was actually pretty moving.

Alex grabbed her backpack out of the car and flashed Piper a reassuring smile. "Come on," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the lot. There was an old metal storage container parked at the edge, next to a lone, nonfunctioning streetlamp. Alex rounded the corner of it, and then noticed Piper had stopped following her. She glanced back, surveying the blonde.

"Aren't you coming?"

Piper looked hesitant. "I'm not sure."

All at once, Alex's old, persistent insecurity came rushing to the surface: had she ruined everything by bringing Piper here, to her crummy neighborhood? Girls like Piper were only interested in Alex as long as they thought her shabby style was a choice, in the same way hipster culture was how the wealthy appropriated poverty and made it romantic. Once those same girls realized Alex's Doc Martins were knock-offs, that the rips and frays in her jeans were genuine rather than designed, they lost interest quicker than a snap of the fingers. Alex didn't think Piper was like that, but now she wasn't sure.

She raised her eyebrows in challenge. "I thought you trusted me. Didn't I keep you safe on Halloween?"

"This isn't the basement of my parents' cottage, Alex."

"No, it's not," she said, impatiently. "But it's basically my backyard. It's perfect safe." Piper still looked hesitant. "Come on, Piper," Alex prompted, seriously. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

Piper bit her lip, and then sighed. "Okay," she said, nervously, following Alex around the back of the abandoned metal structure.

There were crates and old metal barrels stacked against the side of the shipping container; Alex had arranged them this way herself, a few years ago. They formed a staircase of sorts and she ascended nimbly, pulling herself up onto the corrugated roof. She looked down expectantly at Piper, who followed suit and clambered up the mountain of refuse. When she neared the top Alex reached out a hand, pulling with all her might until Piper's torso heaved over the edge and she dragged herself up onto the platform.

"Okay," Piper panted, sounding slightly impatient. "What are we- oh!"

She'd followed Alex's gaze southward, and had finally realized why they were here. The edge of town was set on a hill, and from their vantage point atop the metal structure they had a perfect view of the land sloping away to the south, opening into a wooded valley. The trees were bare now, but the missing foliage allowed them to see further. Several miles away the lights of the neighboring town were visible; a pinkish glow hovered over the clustered buildings like a halo, softening the night, making the dark seem friendly instead of forbidding.

"This is beautiful, Alex," Piper said, in an awed whisper. Something about her tone, and the way she said Alex's name, made the brunette's heart beat faster.

"I know this isn't your ideal first date," she began, "but-"

"No," Piper interrupted, taking Alex's hand and squeezing it gently. "It's perfect."

Alex pulled a spare jacket out of her bag and spread it out, so Piper wouldn't have to sit on the cold metal. Then, with a mischievous grin, she produced a bottle of champagne she'd stolen from the Nichols' party.

"Oh my god, that's like a fifty-dollar bottle!" Piper exclaimed.

Alex shrugged, still smiling wickedly. "They won't miss it." She twisted the metal cage off the top, and then pulled ineffectually at the cork. "Damn it," she whispered in frustration.

Piper had the good grace not to laugh. "You have to push with your thumb," she said.

Alex looked up at her, glaring for a moment. She didn't appreciate it when her competence was called into question. Recognizing that Piper was only trying to help, however, her gaze softened and she held the bottle toward the blonde. "You can do the honors," she offered.

Bracing herself for the pop, Piper pushed at the cork with all her might; when it shot off they both jumped, and then laughed. Piper raised the bottle skyward. "Cheers," she said, taking a sip and then offering it to Alex.

"Cheers," the brunette echoed, taking a fizzy swallow.

She'd barely lowered the bottle when Piper's hand was suddenly tangled in her hair, pulling her forward. Their lips met in a kiss that began rather chastely and then deepened; it was sweet, like the champagne, and Alex didn't want it to end.

When they pulled apart, there were snowflakes in Piper's hair; the first snow of the year. It made Alex laugh. She felt giddy in a strange, wonderfully welcome way.

Thanksgiving was supposed to be a holiday spent with family, but for once Alex wasn't thinking about how hard her mom worked to make ends meet, or how angry she was at her father, or how much she hated school, or how lonely it was to be seventeen.

She was thinking only of Piper's shy smile, and how beautifully her flushed cheeks contrasted with the falling snow.


End file.
